


Pilgrims and Indians

by aika_max



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: F/M, Food Fight, Holidays, Humor, Season/Series 04, Thanksgiving
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-27
Updated: 2014-11-27
Packaged: 2018-03-08 01:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,185
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3190736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aika_max/pseuds/aika_max
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Connor and Cordelia spend their first Thanksgiving as a couple together with the gang at the Hyperion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pilgrims and Indians

Cordelia smoothed out her long black skirt and turned around, examining herself in the mirror. _Yes, I make this look good_ , she thought to herself. 

Even if she looked like some reject from the Flying Nun, she had to admit she still looked stylish. It was quite a challenge, too. Who would voluntarily wear such clunky shoes, with buckles on them no less? And those silly hats... well, let’s not go there.

“Connor, are you coming? Fred doesn’t want us to be late, you know.”

“I don’t get it. Why are you making me do this? You know I don’t want to be there, especially when he is going to be there.”

“It’s the holidays. You’re supposed to spend them with the ones you love,” she said with a wink.

“Well, if that was the case,” he said reaching out to her, “we could just stay home.”

“And miss the entertainment? I don’t think so, pal!” She playfully swatted him on the shoulder while smiling in that way that made him light-headed.

“Why do I have to wear this,” Connor asked while holding the offensive headband out like toxic waste.

“Because it completes your costume. Besides, I have to wear that hat. Have you heard me complaining about it?”

“Not in the last few minutes,” he smiled wryly. “Anyway, I can’t get it on, so I guess I don’t have to wear it.”

“Oh, no you don’t! Come here and let me help you with that.”

Connor stepped closer, and he couldn’t help but smile at Cordelia. She made everything fun, even the things he didn’t want to do, like this Thanksgiving party of Fred’s. Cordelia meanwhile brushed the long bangs away from Connor’s blue eyes with her fingers. Then she stretched her arms around his neck and behind his head to secure his Indian style headband.

While her arms were there, she leaned in for a kiss, which he heartily accepted. “Not that I mind, but why did you do that?”

“Oh, I’m just trying to broaden intercultural communication.”

“Uh-huh... sure...”

“So,” she said leaning against him suggestively “Is that an ear of corn in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” She winked and giggled at the surprised Connor.

“What?” he responded back bewilderedly.

“Oh, nothing. Just a Thanksgiving joke. Now let’s go have a party!” She squeezed his rear to get him moving, getting a dark look from him.

“Later, Cordy. Later,” he warned.

“I can’t wait!” Her eyes twinkled with mischief and the promise of things to come.

~*~

Cordelia skipped up the steps into the Hyperion lobby with Connor reluctantly trailing her at length. She was completely determined to have fun today. She was certain of herself that she was a person who enjoyed a party of any kind. Dressing up and eating well were just fringe benefits of this one.

When Cordelia entered the Hyperion she was greeted by Fred in her Indian costume. She had her long dark hair parted in the middle and braided on both sides of her head. She wore a soft leather dress, moccasins, and a featherless headband.

Connor reached the entrance a moment later and stared at Fred studying their similar costumes. “Nice headband,” he said simply.

“Thanks,” she giggled happily. “Come in! Come in! It’s almost time to eat!”

Fred ushered them in to where the buffet table had been set. On it were various vegetables, salads, rolls and desserts. A ham with gravy and mashed potatoes was near the middle with a large empty space for the turkey. By each setting were wine glasses and a few varieties of wine were in convenient locations.

Looking around, Cordelia checked out the others’ costumes. Wesley was a Pilgrim. _He’s English. That’s no great leap there_ , she thought.

Gunn was also wearing a Pilgrim outfit. He was so tall that the pants didn’t go all the way down. It rather looked like he was wearing little boy school breeches. He and Wesley seemed to be chatting heatedly about something or another.

Angel was there pretending to laugh at something one of the two Pilgrims had said. He was dressed as an Indian, but without a headband. Cordelia wasn’t sure she liked this look on him, but she couldn’t picture him as a Pilgrim either.

A clear tenor voice called from the kitchen, “Turkey’s ready!”

Fred excitedly clapped her hands and shooed everyone to the table. “Angel, you sit at the end of the table. This is your hotel, after all. Cordy, you sit there, and Connor, you sit over there. Then Gunn, and Wes—you can sit here by me.” She paused from her plans and to double check everyone. “Okay, bring in the bird!”

Lorne came out of the Hyperion kitchen carrying the turkey on a covered silver platter. He was wearing a tall chef’s chat, and an apron that proudly read “Kiss the Cook.” He carefully placed the tray on the table and said simply, “The meal is served.”

Noting the seats, Lorne sat down next to Gunn, completing Fred‘s seating chart. Angel was at the head of the table with Cordelia, Wesley and Fred on one side. Down the other side were Connor, Gunn and then Lorne.

Connor reached to grab a roll when Cordy slapped his hand. “This is Thanksgiving. We have to say Grace first.”

An uncomfortable silence fell upon the table for a moment as no one volunteered to say the prayer. Angel then spoke with a self-deprecating laugh. “Just because I used to feed on nuns in a convent doesn’t mean I learned any of their prayers. How about Wesley saying the prayer?”

Wes nodded and cleared his throat at he stood up to say the Grace. He looked around at everyone gathered at the table before starting. Before he could open his mouth to speak, Gunn interrupted him.

“Make it fast, English. Some of us are hungry!”

Wesley made a face and said, “This is a simple prayer I learned in a Thanksgiving song when I was a boy. ‘For Thy gracious blessings. For Thy wondrous word. For Thy loving kindness. We give thanks, oh Lord.’ Amen.”

“So who’s going to carve the turkey?” Fred inquired innocently.

“Not me! I slaved over a hot stove in the kitchen. One of you can have at it,” Lorne waved exhaustedly to the rest of the table.

“I’ll do it for you, sweet heart” Gunn answered confidently, taking the knife set.

“No, I should do it. I know all about being cut,” Wes said icily pointing to his neck.

“Look, it’s my table, my hotel and my turkey. Give me the knife,” Angel said with authority.

“No!” Connor shouted back at Angel. “Cordy likes it better when I am control of sharp weapons. Besides, you don’t even eat food, so why should you touch it?”

“Because it’s mine and Cordy likes it better when I am in control.” Angel growled back at Connor, refusing to surrender the cutlery.

“Uh... guys. Can you quit beating each other with your testosterone and cut the damn turkey?” Cordelia said with impatience.

Angel managed to keep the carving knife and cut the turkey. Cordelia was sure he would have stuck his tongue out at Connor if they’d been on a playground fighting for a toy truck.

Fred helped herself to a muffin in the meantime. When she bit into it, she let out a yelp of pain. “Ow! What did you use to make these? Rocks?”

“Well excuse me, Little Miss Hostess,” Lorne spat back. “It’s not like I was left in the kitchen all alone cooking for hours without any help from the likes of you!”

Wes turned to his right to tend to Fred. “Let me see that. I hope you didn’t chip your tooth.”

Gunn’s stood up. “Get yo’ hands off my woman!” He grabbed Fred’s other hand and pulled her to a standing position.

“I don’t have to it she doesn’t want me to!” Wes answered back, standing and staring down Gunn while firmly holding Fred’s other hand.

Cordy rolled her eyes. “Oh my Lord, they’re going to split her like a wishbone!”

Connor laughed in response. It wasn’t that he knew the tradition of breaking the wishbone, but he knew when Cordelia was showing her ironic humor. His laughter brought a smile from Cordy just for him, which set off Angel.

“What are you laughing about?” he sneered to Connor.

“Hey! Don’t blame me,” he retorted angrily. “I didn’t even want to be here!”

“Great. Just great,” An annoyed voice hissed from the end of the table. “Sit all your little bottoms down and eat! If I had to cook it, you have to eat it!” Lorne stared every one of them down until they sat back in their chairs.

Gunn grumbled something under his breath while they all sat down. They passed the dishes around the table in furious silence. After a while, one of them dared to speak.

“The mashed potatoes are lumpy. They’re not supposed to be lumpy.”

“How do you know, Wes,” Cordelia asked him. “You’re English, so what do you know about Thanksgiving?”

“I know mashed potatoes aren’t supposed to have lumps!”

“Hey, don’t yell at Cordelia,” Angel snapped.

“Angel, it’s not like you’re actually eating anything. You just... just... Shut up!” Fred commanded from her end of the table.

Gunn chuckled from his position between Lorne and Connor. “That’s my girl!”

“Oh you can just stuff it!” Angel said, turning his attentions to Gunn.

“Make me!”

“Very mature, Gunn. Very mature,” Cordy said as she rolled her eyes.

Gunn opened his mouth to answer Cordelia when a huge flying gob of lumpy mashed potatoes landed on his face. Wesley had the offensive catapulting spoon in the air and a rather smug look on his face.

Gunn slowly and methodically wiped his face. Then he stood up and put his knuckles on the table. “Maybe you just need some English peas, English.” He reached over to the bowl full of peas and scooped some out. Then he slowly squished them into Wesley’s hair.

“Charles!” Fred hissed, followed by Connor’s soft giggle.

“Don’t even go there, baby-cakes,” Lorne addressed Connor. “Someone should have taken you over the knee and given you a spankin’ a long time ago.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” Cordelia lustily laughed.

“Oh, shut up!” Fred lobbed one of the rock-like dinner rolls at Cordelia’s head.

“Don’t do that to my girlfriend, you twig!”

“Look who’s talking, Peter Pan!” Fred stuck her tongue out at Connor.

Angel angrily banged his fist down on the table. “QUIET!”

“Just who do you think you are?” Cordelia asked icily.

Before Angel could answer, one of the flying rock-like dinner rolls hit him on the forehead. That was the last moment before all hell broke loose. He picked up the pumpkin pie, throwing it in Lorne’s general direction.

The air was filled with volleys from each side of the table. Lumpy mashed potatoes here and slimy gravy there. English peas and granite-hard biscuits. Whole kernel corn and pasta salad. Pieces of ham and candied yams. Nothing was safe from the fray.

After several minutes of fighting, there came a temporary lull. Each party was staring down the others, armed with some culinary weapon of choice. Cordelia looked to Connor’s eyes and saw as he mouthed, “Get. Me. Out of here. Right. Now!”

She reached her hand across the table for him, and they raced out of the Hyperion to the safety of their loft.

~*~

Much later after they’d returned home and showered away various food and debris from each other, Connor and Cordelia cuddled silently in bed. Connor had his arm draped possessively around her waist and he sniffed at the nape of her neck. Cordelia. His. It was a good feeling. No, not just good. It was amazing.

“So what is this Thanksgiving really all about?” he finally asked her quietly.

“Long ago when the Pilgrims came here, they didn’t have enough to eat. Without the help of the Indians, they would have starved to death. And you know how unattractive dead can be on a person,” she joked. She caressed his arm idly, and then she finished, “It’s a day to be thankful for what we have.”

“Oh, well that is easy,” Connor said with sure confidence pulling her closer. “I’m thankful for you!”

She turned her shoulder to look at him fully. “Really?” She questioned him unsurely.

“Most definitely. Without a doubt!”

“Well come here then!” She pulled him close for a deep sensuous kiss.

After a while he pulled away and said, “If you really wanted to know I cared, you didn’t have to put me into a costume. It’s not that I don’t like leather, but...”

“Fine,” she nodded with a thoughtful look. “No costumes.”

“Good!” He was visibly relieved.

“Next time...”

Interrupting her, he begged “Please don’t say there’s going to be a next time.”

She ignored him and said with a twinkle in her eyes, “Next time, we’ll skip the costumes and just go naked.”

**Author's Note:**

> For the record, Cordy/Angel was always my favorite ship for this show. I just never found that I could write it. In my personal timeline of writing, this is an early work.


End file.
